A Game Within a Game
by SoujisBlackCat
Summary: Russia loves Tetris because it's like life, only easier.


It was no wonder the game had been invented by a Russian. Such genius could only come from the powerful mind of one of Ivan's own people. Such a simple interface, and yet such skill required to make the pieces fall into place. The logic of it had a distinctly Russian feel. And more importantly, only one of his children could understand his deep longing to make things _fit_.

Ivan took a sip of tea with the game paused on the start screen. His objective today was to beat his last high score. It wasn't bad, but he knew he could do better. For once, he was only competing with himself, (Thank goodness America didn't know of this game, or he'd never be at peace again!) but nevertheless, to play properly he had to be, as one might say, 'in the zone'. And tea helped that. So did the hazy evening light and the relatively bright computer screen, and the fact that he was alone in his room with the door closed and no one to bother him, talk in his ear or try to give him advice on _his _game.

He tapped the enter key, which had been used so much that its lettering had faded to the point of illegibility. The cheap make of the keyboard hadn't helped it stay on any longer, but it was the best he could afford. And it was functional, which was the most important thing. As long as it worked, its looks didn't matter.

The controls were so easy: one key for left, one for right, one for rotate and one for drop, and that was all he needed to form rows and make the blocks fall into place. It was a gentle kind of problem-solving; no debates or disagreements, no propaganda, no interventions or threats of war . . . just every figure meshing perfectly with the others and the problems slowly disappearing row by row, sinking into a sea of blissful nothingness.

With a flick of a key Ivan nudged a little T-shaped piece into a space made just for it. An O-piece in the hole next to it and two more rows disappeared. Each block was made of only four stable pieces, easy to place, unlike real life, where the pieces were made of millions of people of hundreds of ethnicities, and even when you thought you knew where they'd fit, something would go wrong and there would be a space you couldn't fill, or another block that would be left out. And worst, the blocks could feel and speak and get angry when they were placed wrongly. For the player of the game, there was no rest in sight.

Not outside of playing a different game, that is.

By now the blocks had piled up to the top of the screen, which displayed 'Game Over' and Ivan's score – not quite as high as the last. He'd have to play again. That was the nicest thing about this game; you could press restart, and then you'd be left with another blank canvas, free of your past mistakes.

Ivan was about to press the key when a voice called from beyond the doorway. "Comrade Russia? Are you there? I hope I'm not interrupting anything . . ."

"What is it, Lithuania?" Ivan was perturbed that his game had been interrupted, but he knew Toris would not call him from his room for something trivial. He'd long since taught his subordinate that that was an impolite thing to do.

"Your boss asked to speak to you. It's something important."

Ivan sighed, ran his hand through his hair, and pushed the computer's power button as he stood up. None of his bosses ever gave him a break. But nonetheless it was necessary to leave his game right now. He'd be back, though, to beat his score and once again be at peace in a world where everything was under control.

/

The house was quiet, and all the lights in Ivan's room were dark save for one. His computer was on, as it always was nowadays, because he needed it for email and the web, as did any citizen of the modern world. He was as technologically literate as he had always been, because a country had to get along with its youngest generation. But his favorite things to do on his computer were the older ones, the lower-tech ones that anyone could love and understand. In this age, as his problems continued, not only control but simplicity was calming to him.

The game had changed, quite a bit: the blocks were different colors, you could hold a block you couldn't find a place for, and there were a multitude variations on the traditional game that revolved around time and rows formed, sometimes with extra challenges. This site had hundreds of thousands of visitors each day – even some from America. But the competition mattered less than it ever had. The motions of his fingers on the keys were the same, the blocks were the same shape, and the way they spun into position was just as satisfying as it had been 25 years ago. And the reprieve it gave him was the same.

He'd hoped he wouldn't need this kind of a break once he dropped the whole pretense (now he could admit that it was a pretense) of socialism, but even though his economy had improved, he still faced the same daily problems – or worse ones. In fact, he realized with distaste, he was now no longer drinking tea to relax himself, but vodka. He knew it wasn't good for him, but he also knew he wouldn't stop, raised prices or not.

He took another sip and pressed start. His new keyboard was oddly curved in the middle for the comfort of his hands while typing, meaning the arrow keys were slightly slanted. It was more annoying than fading lettering, for sure. But such annoyances would never leave his life; each new development got rid of some and brought more. Nothing would ever be perfect. He knew that by now.

With a precisely timed spin, Ivan fit a T-block into the matrix he'd been creating since this round started, knocking out two more rows. He was playing the "Ultra" version of the game, where the object was to gain as many points as possible in two minutes, and T-spins were one of his favorite ways to get points quickly. It was possible to let the blocks pile up and lose before two minutes had elapsed, but Ivan never did. He always finished his game now, at least on the computer. His real-life blocks, though – those were still in a jumble.

At the end of his game, he was ranked 43rd on the leaderboard, his score just a little below his personal record. Ivan glanced at the clock in the bottom corner of his computer and saw that it was 1:49. He hesitated. Here he could make a choice between going to bed now and being able to get up on time in the morning, or playing for possibly hours more, sleeping through his alarm, missing the meeting, making his boss angry, and on through the long list of consequences. It should have been an easy decision. But still it felt like there was no reason to go to bed anymore. All sleep brought was bad dreams. Before, when life was weighing on his mind and he was afraid to close his eyes, he had someone to run to: his sisters, his dear Empress Catharine, or sweet, ever-sympathetic Lithuania. But now he had to weather the hardest nights alone.

Ivan sighed, ran a hand through his hair, and closed the game's window. Loneliness or none, sleep was a necessity. He got up, ignoring a twinge of pain in his side from the latest attack on his heart (from Chechnya, damn him – another piece that wouldn't stay where he was told to).

Of course, he knew he would be back later. Probably as soon as he woke up. The game was comforting whether he played it in morning, noon or night. Among all the games Ivan had played in life, it was the only one he could truly understand. It made more sense than anything else.

It was made by a Russian, after all.

/

A/N: AHAHA I LOVE TETRIS. Also, I love it when things come full-circle.

The first part is set around the time Tetris was first invented. The second is set recently, but not quite now. It refers to the raising of vodka prices in Russia in a government attempt to curb alcoholism, and the Chechen suicide bombings that happened in March this year. It's been sitting on my computer for a long time . . . when I wrote it those things weren't far off at all.

I assume I don't have to explain the rules of Tetris because I assume you clicked on this because you love Tetris, and also because . . . it's Tetris!


End file.
